


Professional Misconduct Report: Stardate 48531.7

by ellissnow



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, bad physicianing, dax is wise in all things, i love rom, julian worrying himself silly, serious sisko is serious, the ongoing talkative-morn joke will be hilarious until the heat death of the universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-03-20 14:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3653232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellissnow/pseuds/ellissnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dr. Bashir is on the night shift, and behaves appropriately - for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Incident of Workplace Indiscretion

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I faffed with this for absolutely ages, in no small part because I realised the rather nebulous mental image of the infirmary I had in my mind was completely inaccurate and kept being overwritten with Voyager's sick bay. Not that a little bit of inaccuracy would have mattered, but I do get strict with myself sometimes. 
> 
> The next part of this will likely not be around for at least a few weeks, because Spring Nano is coming up and I have something long and hopefully awesome - and non-Star Trek related - planned for that. I haven't done anything non-Star Trek related for months, I'm not sure how my brain is going to cope.
> 
> I know my other half is scouring AO3 trying to work out which user is me... I won't tell him, because I'm horrified at the very thought of anyone I know in real life reading anything I've written, which I fully realise is ridiculous and cowardly, but can't seem to get over nonetheless. However, he's bound to work it out eventually. If you're reading this... Dear god, just please, never, ever tell me you've read it, okay? Then I won't have to die of embarrassment, haha.
> 
> I have a tumblr, if anyone's interested, though I've recently deleted everything and started from scratch. I will actually use it at some point: the-ghost-of-some-toast.tumblr.com
> 
> Oh, btw, the stardate is one I chose as good as at random from around the middle of season three. When this all occurs is entirely irrelevant, but I figured it should be a time when nothing particularly major has happened to either Julian or Garak for a while.

Julian’s really drawn the short straw this rotation when it comes to his shifts in the infirmary. “Oh well,” he says cheerfully to the empty room. Just because he’s CMO doesn’t mean he can make everyone else do the night shift all the time. It won’t be too boring, anyway. He’s got his replicator for a constant supply of raktajino, the plan for a new research project to map out, the freedom to listen to some music, because there are no patients to disturb or staff to look disapprovingly at him – and besides, he usually gets at least one or two patients on a night shift; it’s not like the station shuts down completely at night. It’s not, in fact, as if it’s night at all by anything other than arbitrarily decided station-specific cycles.

Having replicated his first extra-large mug of raktajino (and a chocolate muffin which he justifies as necessary to give him the energy to make it through this shift) he settles down in the little alcove where his desk is to work on his new project (tentatively entitled “The Effect of Wormhole Conditions on the Main Subcategories of Alpha Quadrant Pathology-Inducing Bacteria”), which gets him through the first three hours of the shift nicely, with only one break for a further liquid caffeine injection from the replicator.

That brings him to just after 0100 hours, which means that Quark will be thinking of closing his bar soon, depending on how he’s feeling and how strict the security staff on duty tonight are about noise regulations and closing times. So unless a very last minute bar fight breaks out (perhaps Morn protesting the closing of the bar with violence?) or someone’s had so very much to drink that a responsible friend will have to bring them up once they’re finally kicked out, it doesn’t look like he’ll be getting any alcohol-related cases tonight.

He doesn’t really want to do any more project planning right now, so he decides to check every single piece of equipment the infirmary has and recalibrate everything – that should take care of at least the next half an hour. Of course, it’s an entirely pointless exercise since the lead nurse does just that at the end of every afternoon shift, but never mind, it’ll keep him busy…

Halfway through recalibrating a neural scanner that doesn’t need to be recalibrated, the door slides open and Julian receives his first patient of the night in the form of Rom. It’s not a huge surprise – the shy man, for all his quiet genius with electronic devices of any size and type has now been discovered, is still rather clumsy and prone to accidents, and he’s certainly no stranger to the infirmary.

“Rom!” Julian greets him with enthusiasm that, he realises belatedly, is probably inappropriate considering they’re in an infirmary and there’s generally only one reason to turn up there in the middle of the night. From what his first appraisal tells him as the doors closed behind the sweet Ferengi, he has a shallow wound on his forehead – a fair amount of blood, but likely nothing serious.

“Oh, uh, hello D-doctor,” Rom stutters in his usual slightly abashed manner. “I didn’t think _you’d_ be here! I’m so-sorry to disturb you so late, but you see I… Well, I…” He trails off, gesturing to his poor head and looking sheepish.

“You’re not disturbing me at all,” Julian assures him, as he always does when a patient feels the need to apologise for requiring him to do his job (that patient is often _this_ one). “Oh dear… Come and sit down and let me have a look at that.”

He ushers Rom over to a bed and inspects his head wound before cleaning it, inspecting it again and then sterilising it. It looks to him as if something has fallen on the poor man, and when he enquires how he came by the injury, exactly (on the off chance that someone inflicted it on him deliberately and he needs to involve security), Rom confirms as much.

“Oh well, accidents do happen! Nothing to worry about, Rom,” he says in his best comforting doctor voice, because Rom looks quite intensely worried – but then, he often looks like that. “It’s already pretty much stopped bleeding. I’m going to put a dressing on, but in the morning you’ll be able to take it off, alright? Now, does it hurt?”

“N-no, not really, I think it’ll be fine.”

“Great! Well, you should come back to me if it starts hurting more, or if you feel funny in any way, alright Rom? In fact…”

He’s about to advise him to come back in the morning anyway – he does prefer to be safe than sorry and follow up on everything, however minor – when the door hisses open again behind him. He turns around to check it’s not an emergency – although the general lack of screaming and shouting suggests it isn’t – and it’s not, but it is the last person he expected to see tonight.

“Garak! Are you sick?” he exclaims with perhaps a little more concern than is strictly professional, given that Garak looks absolutely fine.

“Oh no, Doctor, I’m quite well,” Garak says with one of those charming smiles of his, and he looks completely awake despite the late hour, and Julian simply has no idea what to make of him right now.

“Good…” he says, for lack of knowing what else to say. “Uh… Well then, just, give me a minute and I’ll be with you…” _God, you sound like an idiot_ he scolds himself internally. Shaking himself mentally, he turns back to his actual patient, who’s sitting patiently on the bed.

“Uh, yes, Rom. Sit tight, I’m just going to cover this up for you, then you’re free to go, alright?” He fishes around in a nearby drawer for an appropriate dressing for Rom’s head, feeling frightfully conscious of Garak’s unexpected presence behind him; wondering what he’s doing here, what he’s doing now as he waits for him to finish with Rom. He feels strangely nervous, like he might forget how to do this very basic task, or how to talk, or how to _be_ , just because Garak is observing him. He’s never felt quite this way before – well, not since the very first time they met, anyway. But then, he thinks, Garak has never surprised him by turning up at his workplace in the middle of the night like this, either…

Taking a deep breath that he’s sure neither Rom nor his silently observing friend will have missed, he makes himself shift back into a more normal mode and gets on with his task, carefully unwrapping the adhesive dressing and pressing it gently to the Ferengi’s injured head.

“Thank you so much, Dr Bashir!” Rom says once he’s fully bandaged up. “Thank you,” he says again as he stands up, and Julian, as always, is touched by how genuinely grateful the man is for his extremely minor care. “Umm, let me buy you a drink next time you’re in the bar!”

“That is completely unnecessary, Rom, I assure you,” Julian tells him in as serious a voice as he can muster when he’s also sharing a small smile with Garak, who is still standing near the entrance, holding something and patiently waiting. Garak’s fond of Rom too, Julian knows, finds his simple character and essential good nature refreshing.

“Um, err, well if you’re sure,” Rom says uncertainly as he steps out of the door. “See you soon, Doctor…”

And then finally he’s alone with Garak, and he relaxes somewhat – although he wonders if he should be relaxing _less_. Garak must be up to something. Well, he’s always up to something, but he must be up to something specific if he’s here, awake, at after 0200 hours – and what’s worse, it must be something involving _him_.

“Garak, what on earth are you doing here?” he asks.

“Oh Doctor, aren’t you happy to see me?” Garak replies in a mock-hurt voice that would perhaps stand more chance of being believable were it not for the cheerful grin.

“Of course I am!” Julian says, humouring him because he means it. “I’m always happy to see you. I just didn’t expect to be seeing you at work in the middle of the night! Here, here, look, let’s sit down…”

He leads Garak to his tiny work alcove and belatedly remembers what a state it is, padds and papers strewn all over the desk and on the floor around his chair where he had left them, unsure if he would return to his research tonight. “Couldn’t you sleep?” he asks, half of his attention on tidying things up, or at least, gathering them together so they can exist in one messy pile for a while instead of five or six or ten. “Were you so bored you had to come all the way to the infirmary even though you hate it, just because you knew at least someone would be awake here?”

He finally makes the area just about respectable enough to be the workstation of someone you would trust with your medical wellbeing, though probably not up to the extremely neat standards at which Garak keeps his shop, and pulls over another chair, then throws himself into his normal chair tiredly, waiting for Garak, who’s still standing, to explain why he’s there – or, more likely, to give him some story and completely fail to explain anything.

“In fact I _couldn’t_ sleep,” Garak admits so easily that Julian immediately thinks it’s a lie. “But in fact, more specifically, I knew _you_ would be awake here – don’t forget how discerning I am in the company I keep, my dear. You mentioned it the other day at lunch.”

“Oh yes, I suppose I did.” He remembers, of course, but the fact is that, what with one thing and another, Julian most decidedly had other things on his mind during their latest lunch, as he usually does.

“I come bearing gifts,” Garak adds mildly, and Julian’s attention immediately turns to the small package the other man has in his hands, which he scanned earlier and dismissed.

“Gifts!” he exclaims with juvenile excitement he doesn’t bother trying to hide, and stands up again. “For me? But…why?”

“Oh I…simply felt like it,” Garak says, and Julian would swear, for a second, that he looks uncomfortable. “Here, let me show you… It’s nothing too exciting, mind you, so don’t be disappointed…”

The package he’s been clutching turns out to be some kind of fabric bag, which he opens the top of and reaches into.

“First, something for you to read. Just on the off chance you fancy a change from your research. It’s not another repetitive epic!” he assures him lightly. “My intention was not to cause you to fall asleep on the job, after all. It’s not even Cardassian, in fact. It’s ancient Vulcan poetry,” he says as he hands Julian the book – a _real_ book, a paper one! “I…remember you being very fond of that anthology we read together last year.” Again, for just a second, Julian thinks that he sees _embarrassment_ in the other man’s expression, but that’s not possible – Garak’s clearly never been embarrassed about anything in his entire life. “And I know how you like to collect antique books, the impractical things…” he goes on, with distaste that Julian knows is feigned, because he happens to know that Garak has a small collection of genuine Hebitian and early Cardassian era books on a shelf in his quarters.

“Garak, this is… Amazing! Really, I… Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” Garak says with a smile that makes Julian feel rather funny. “There’s one more thing, though… Some tea.” He hands Julian a chrome and plastic flask-cup thing, which looks about a hundred years old. “It’s that ‘real’ tea you like to reminisce about so much, direct from Earth. Well, most likely not direct. Anyway, I seem to recall you saying that tea was a popular drink from your home island, so it is, in fact, from England.”

“What, really? Real actual tea? From Earth?” Julian echoes in disbelief, fighting the pedant in him that wants to explain to Garak, even in the middle of this impromptu gift giving session, that tea isn’t actually _from_ England, unscrewing the lid from the unspecified container and peering in as if that will help him identify the contents. “…really? Oh, it smells lovely…”

“Really,” Garak promises him with a more amused smile. “English Breakfast Tea. Or so it says on the box. That is, the entire box is yours, of course, but I hardly thought you’d want a box of dried leaves cluttering up your limited work surfaces, so I thought I’d give that to you another time, and just brewed that up for you for tonight.”

“You made it yourself?” Julian says in surprise, then immediately wonders why he asked – how else is Garak going to have made it if it isn’t replicated? Nonetheless, there’s something incredibly endearing about the mental image of Garak pottering around in his quarters, searching out the battered flask and brewing up hot water, and all _for him_ … He dismisses the image as quickly as he can. “I… This is amazing!” he says again, aware he’s repeating himself. “Absolutely brilliant, here, let me get some cups, we can share it… Oh, I must replicate some milk…”

“Milk!” Garak exclaims in disgust, and Julian knew he would, so he ignores it and continues to chatter gratefully to his friend as he potters around the infirmary, searching for cups and, when he fails to find them, replicating them along with a tiny jug of milk.

“Honestly, Garak, this is so very thoughtful of you, I can’t quite thank you enough! I can’t wait to start reading those poems, though the book looks so old I’m rather afraid I’ll damage it. And _real_ tea! I hope you didn’t have to do anything illegal for Quark to get it… Wow, honestly, I… I can’t believe you brought me gifts!” he’s still babbling as he returns to where Garak is standing and puts the cups and jug on the desk. “Really, you…”

He grins at Garak, and then forgets to sit down or pour the tea or finish his sentence and just keeps gazing at him instead. “You…are a wonderful man,” he says, and it’s exactly what he was going to say except it comes out so much more serious than the throwaway thought it started off as.

“My dear…” Garak murmurs as if barely any of his attention is on his words and all the rest is on Julian. The way he’s looking at him, unblinking, with that strange half-smile, befuddles Julian’s brain and he thinks this must be what it’s like to be hypnotised. “I know you like to insist on thinking the best of everybody, but objectively speaking, even you can’t say that’s true…”

There’s a warm, still silence between them, and although he’s watching Garak intently as he moves, he still draws in a little gasp when the tips of his fingers touch his cheek, ever so gently…

Then Garak’s stepping towards him, closing the already small distance, and his other hand comes to rest just as gently on his waist… And then Garak _kisses_ him, tentatively, as if, for the first time in Julian’s experience of him, he’s not sure about what he’s doing.

His heart is racing, and his brain has apparently just reset itself, because it takes him a while to remember how his body functions, but as soon as he does, he joyfully throws his arms around Garak’s shoulders, pulls them impossibly closer together, kisses him back eagerly, so eagerly. As if Garak’s received approval of his actions, the hand he has on Julian’s waist immediately slides around to his back, the other, resting on his cheek, pushing back til his fingers are tangled in Julian’s hair, and his clever tongue finds its way into his mouth, and Julian literally feels weak with happiness and desire.

“Oh,” he says when they finally stop kissing, not removing his arms from where they’re still resting over Garak’s ridged shoulders. Garak pulls back ever so slightly, just enough for his hand to be resting on his waist again, and his other hand slips down to rest on his waist too, stroking Julian’s cheek again first. Julian can’t stop smiling, and he’s breathless, which would be terribly embarrassing if Garak didn’t appear to be equally as dazed and disarrayed as he is.

“Oh?” Garak echoes with a soft, amused laugh. “That’s what the most talkative man on this station has to say about what just happened?”

“I just… I didn’t know,” Julian replies. “I didn’t know you… I mean, sometimes I thought maybe you… And of course I-well, I _hoped_ you… But I didn’t know that you actually…”

“I do,” Garak says, saving him, to his huge relief, from his own inability to finish a sentence. “I assure you I do. Most fervently.”

There are so very many things Julian could say to him, wants him to know – like how long he’s craved more than the strange, intense friendship they’ve now had for years. How many idle hours he’s spent daydreaming and fantasising about what their first kiss would be like, despite the fact that he never really thought it would ever actually happen. Or how, despite anything he might have done, or anything he might do in the future, to him, Garak really is a wonderful man; how even the smallest amount of time spent with him has always been the highlight of his day, or week, or month; how, all other things aside, he utterly, utterly adores him – has done even when it hasn’t made any sense to. He wants to say that if Garak would consent to be his partner, for them to become a real, official couple, he would be making him the happiest man in the quadrant…

That thought snaps him out of his happy, well-kissed daze.

_Oh god, Julian, don’t say that! You’ve literally only just this minute kissed the man for the first time! Three minutes ago you didn’t even know if he was interested! Don’t say anything! You’ll only ruin it!_

Heeding his own advice, he opts to say nothing, and instead kisses him again – an action which is very well received. He pushes himself rather shamelessly against Garak’s body, and Garak makes a possessive little noise that honestly, has to be the sexiest thing Julian’s ever heard, and wraps his strong arms tightly around him, and by this point Julian’s entirely forgotten that it’s the middle of the night and he’s tired – and that he’s actually at work. All his concentration is entirely focused on taking in and enjoying this experience; the feeling of having his arms wrapped around those broad shoulders, the somehow surprising softness of his lips, the taste of his mouth, and _oh god_ , it occurs to him, he can finally put his fingers to the ridges above Garak’s eyes or along his jaw or running down his neck and see how he reacts _,_ and as he opts for the elegant ridge that follows his jawline, oh god, Garak _trembles_ , and Julian feels it at every point where their bodies are pressed together…

When the door hisses gently open, some distant, currently hugely unimportant part of Julian’s brain probably registers it, but he doesn’t really notice it. And nothing in the universe could make him stop kissing Garak right now.

Except that then Garak slowly starts pulling back, disentangling himself, and with one last touch of their mouths together Julian lets him. And while he’s embarrassed to find that he’s now literally panting, Garak seems to have regained his ability to recover, and is merely looking intensely pleased with himself.

And then, in that embarrassed but happy moment, the door closes with a whisper and a quiet thud. Julian freezes in horror, not to mention drastically heightened embarrassment, then bolts forward to round the corner and stare at the door with wide eyes. Nobody has come in, but very obviously, someone has gone out, or rather, attempted to come in and then, having enjoyed the show for an indeterminate amount of time, exited.

“Oh no,” he groans, rushing to the door to scan the corridor and see the massive form of, of all people, Morn sneaking away. “Oh no!” he says again, even more dismayed. “Garak, this is awful!” he exclaims, turning back again to where Garak is now seated at his desk, pouring tea with a baffling calmness.

“Whyever is it awful, my dear Doctor?” Garak says mildly, not looking up from the tea. “Are you ashamed that someone appears to have, ah, caught us in the act?”

“What? What are you… You _know_ that’s not… Oh my god, you are so infuriating sometimes!” he says, tone changing entirely as Garak looks up at him, blue eyes sparkling.

“Only sometimes? Hmm, I must work harder,” the Cardassian replies casually, and Julian has to really try not to laugh.

“This is serious! Someone came to me for medical help, and I was too busy getting off with you to even notice, let alone care! I’m a terrible doctor! Oh, I must go after him…”

“You’ll do no such thing! It’s the middle of the night, and you’re tired. Here, come and sit here and drink this. I got it for you especially, remember?”

How could he possibly forget?

“Yes, it was that charming and kind gesture that started all this trouble in the first place, I think you’ll find… I will, I will drink it, but first I’ll just…”

He makes to set off out the door, reaching for the nearest emergency kit in its locker on the wall.

“Doctor. If it’s something serious, he will come back soon. Nobody’s going to let a little embarrassment endanger their health, so will you please calm down?”

“Fine, yes fine, you’re right of course. I…yes, alright then.”

He leaves the emergency kit where it is and joins Garak in sitting at the desk. He smiles at Garak over his cup of tea (which is completely delicious), feeling full of nervous energy, and oddly shy, and in spite of himself, desperately wondering if he’s going to get another kiss tonight. The way Garak smiles back makes him think that he probably will, which is… Just incredibly exciting, but he’s still a little worried.

“It’ll be fine,” Garak assures him, apparently reading his mind, and reaches over to rest a reassuring hand on his thigh – he feels instantly better, but definitely not any calmer. “Everyone’s allowed to be a little…unprofessional from time to time,” Garak says, but Julian just groans.

“Unprofessional!” he echoes in dismay. He tries so hard never to be unprofessional, to continue to prove to his colleagues that he deserves this post for more reasons than just that he’s so intelligent, that, within work hours at least, he is as mature and sensible as…as Worf! Well, maybe not _Worf_ …

“Just a bit, my dear,” Garak says, and oh, despite his worries about his reputation as a clinician, he likes hearing those words, words that he’s heard a thousand times before – they seem to mean something else now, something more. “I’m not discouraging it, by the way – I was rather enjoying your unprofessional side, before we were so rudely interrupted…”

“But Garak…” he says, although the energy he’s able to put into his fretting is lessening as the seconds go by because he’s just so _happy_. “Didn’t you see who it was that interrupted us? It was _Morn!_ ”

“Oh, I see,” Garak says after a few seconds, and his voice is neutral but Julian can see his delighted amusement. “Well in that case, I’m afraid it’ll be all over the station how unprofessional you are, probably before you even go off shift. So…” A thought seems to occur to him, and he removes the hand that’s calmly resting on his thigh only to take Julian’s hand. “In that case, a little more…unprofessionalism won’t make any difference, will it?”

“No! No, definitely not Garak, no more, not tonight…” he says firmly, but even if Garak weren’t looking at him like that, even if he weren’t already imagining Garak’s mouth on his again… He finds that deciding to mean it doesn’t mean he can bring himself to really mean it.

Except then the sound of the infirmary door opening yet again reaches them, and he pulls his hand from Garak’s with an incredibly reluctant squeeze.

“Wait here,” he tells Garak. “That is… You can wait here, if you want. Obviously, it’s very late, so if you want to, you should go to bed. I mean, I won’t mind.”

“I can do without another hour of sleep,” Garak interrupts him. “And besides, if I go now, who will threaten Morn into keeping your indiscretions a secret once you’ve fixed him?”

“Um, alright then, I’ll just… Well, I’ll go and, you know, be a doctor, then,” Julian says, wondering if he’s ever going to say anything that isn’t ridiculous ever again as he backs out of his little work area.

He can feel himself blushing, not to mention that he knows he’s doing that dopey smile he’s always wished he could stop doing when he’s ludicrously happy.

This is the best night shift he’s ever done.

Now if he can just treat Morn – and apologise to him – without dying of embarrassment, he can get back to being wildly unprofessional and indiscreet.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. A Day of Doubts and Distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, very little actually happens in this chapter, but it still managed to go way off course. It was supposed to be all about Julian being happy and excited, and instead it's about him being neurotic and stressing out and sabotaging his own happiness. Sorry about that, Julian. I didn't mean to do this to you, honest. 
> 
> Anyway, all will be well in the next chapter, because of course it will! Thanks for reading :) I love you all, my fellow DS9 and Garak/Bashir fans!

Julian has another night shift to get through yet, so he spends all of the next day – well technically the _same_ day – trying to rest. He does get some sleep, but he’s certain, as he yawns in the shower and throws himself back down on his bed halfway through dressing himself in his uniform, that he’s spent the majority of the day at least semi-awake and alternating between worry and joy, between fretting and drowsily enjoying thinking of Garak.

He doesn’t allow himself the luxury of reliving the whole incident again, because there’s simply no time for it, but honestly, he’s pretty sure he can still feel the vague impression of lips on his, of hands on his waist, like quiet background noise to his thoughts.

Had Garak intended that, _all that_ , to happen when he decided he was going to bring him gifts at about the least appropriate time ever?

Damn, it would really be nice to not have to go straight back to work, to have a day, well, a night off so he could…

_Could what, Julian? Go over it all in your head a few hundred more times and get nowhere?_

He forces his tired body to stand again and finishes pulling on his uniform, and sure enough, the cycle that’s been plaguing him all day long continues and doubts start to creep back in, spoiling his blissful, hazy happiness.

Whether it was his plan or not, what if Garak is regretting their little encounter now?

What if he wants him, physically, but has no interest in the kind of romantic, more long-term relationship that Julian has been hoping for for so very long, and all this excitement is just going to lead to heartbreak?

What if – what if it’s all some kind of trick? One of Garak’s mad but clever schemes, designed with god knows what purpose in mind, and he’s just playing with him, using him?

 _No_ , he tells himself firmly, and leaves his quarters, finally. He refuses to think that Garak is _up to something_. Not in this.

He allows himself to focus on how tired he is in an attempt to take his mind off the subject. It works, in a way, allowing the walk to the infirmary to pass in something of a daze. He stops off at the replimat to get an extra strong pre-shift coffee (much tastier than the stuff the replicator in the infirmary provides) and is happy to notice that nobody seems to be laughing at him or giving him funny looks, which means news of his little…indiscretion hasn’t spread around the station just yet – he’s grateful for that, and also a little surprised. He continues his semi-sleepwalk to the infirmary and studiously ignores the speculative looks from his staff and the fact that up until the very moment he enters, they’ve clearly been gossiping about him, settling straight into the research he so thoroughly abandoned last night and saying nothing more than “goodnight” as a particularly curious nurse tries to get him chatting before he leaves.

He plans a few experiments to do over the next few days, which is an exciting prospect and, along with high doses of caffeinated drinks and various sugary treats that, as a doctor, he should really know better than to be eating, wakes him up a bit.

He sees an Andorian woman, just a stopover on the station, who has a young baby who seems to be ill. When he tries to reassure her that the infant only has a mild infection, nothing that can’t be quickly and easily dealt with, she frets and gets upset and says she blames herself for bringing her on such a long trip at such a young age. After spending a while chatting with her and assuring her that these things happen, he prescribes some medicine for the baby and a couple of days recuperation for both of them on the station before the next leg of their journey.

He treats one case of “far too much alcohol” and two cases of “literally nothing but I clearly wanted to come and see if the doctor was doing scandalous things like I’ve heard about him”, and wonders if Garak’s going to have to deal with this kind of thing in his shop for a few days too. It’s unlikely, he thinks, because people are infinitely more scared of Garak than they are of him, and also because he is much less likely to actually put up with it.

And… he doesn’t exactly know what he’s expecting to happen, because there’s no way Garak would turn up again – what a bad idea that would be – but when he realises it’s already 0400 and it hasn’t happened, he’s somehow surprised, and disappointed.

He spends the last couple of hours of his shift repeatedly deciding to send Garak a message and then changing his mind. He checks his own messages about a hundred times – nothing. _Of course there’s bloody nothing, you idiot, he’s asleep!_

And then his shift is over, and he’s so very glad he has two full days off duty to recover, because he feels terrible. He doesn’t realise quite how truly terrible until the infirmary doors close behind him, and he has long corridors and longer hours ahead of him. He’s tired, of course, far more tired than a couple of night shifts would usually make him, but it’s not just that. That giddy, overwhelming joy he felt the night before has completely left him now, and he can’t seem to get it back. He just feels worried, although he can’t define exactly what about, and tense, and _annoyed_ – annoyed at Garak for the little stunt he pulled the night before, and annoyed at himself for being weak to his own desires in even the most uncertain of circumstances, even the most inappropriate of settings, and for overthinking everything, always – in short, for being himself.

At least this time, when he arrives at his quarters and lies down, not even bothering to get out of his uniform, he’s so exhausted that he falls asleep almost immediately, in spite of his ongoing turmoil.

 

 

 

He sleeps until the early afternoon and wakes up feeling almost refreshed, and at least slightly less tense and worried. The light-headed happiness that should really come with remembering that he _kissed Garak_ is starting to come back, making his skin tingle whenever he thinks about it. The problem is, though, that with it comes a terrible fear of what he may now lose – and a slew of mental warning signs telling him to stop assuming he has anything more to lose than he had before.

He distracts himself from worrying about his future with Garak by worrying about what the people on the station are going to say about him, what they are no doubt saying about him behind his back right now. Feeling a kind of aggressive, defiant cheerfulness, he makes the executive decision to deal with the latter (and for now try not to obsess about the former) and as soon as he is ready, goes to Quark’s.

He greets Morn, who greets him back with a complete lack of shame about the fact that he knows Julian knows he’s spent the last thirty hours or so spreading gossip about him.

 _Good old Morn! Never change!_ he thinks to himself wryly but sincerely as he sits a decent amount of seats away from the Lurian at the bar. He orders himself a very late breakfast and a large raktajino and waits for the first comment.

His plan is to get it over with, so to speak, by spending the afternoon in the most public place he can think of and letting everyone have a gawp at him and get all their jibes in so they can move on and something (or someone) else can become the station’s favourite scandal that much sooner.

It works, of course – it takes approximately ten seconds for Quark to appear across the bar from him wearing a smirk that bridges that gap between amused and slightly nasty.

“Dining alone, Doctor? I’m surprised!” he sneers.

“Are you?” Julian replies mildly. “I often eat here, and often alone.”      

“Well, that’s true, but I _had_ heard that it was likely you would be spending more of your time with a certain gentleman from now on…?”                                                      

“Have you?” Julian asks flatly, not even bothering to attempt to sound genuinely surprised. “Well I can’t imagine who might have told you that, or who they might have been referring to.”

Quark leans on his elbows and watches him hopefully for a long, slightly awkward moment, but eventually turns away, obviously disappointed that Julian isn’t sharing all the gossip with him. No doubt he’ll make something up and tell his gossip-loving customers that Julian said it anyway.

He eats his meal in relative peace, hearing no more than a few quiet comments and muffled laughs that may or may not be about him. When he’s finished eating, he catches Quark’s attention, and disappoints him again by just ordering more raktajino, then gets out one of the padds he’s brought with him for reading material, thinking longingly of the heavy, ornate book of poetry in his quarters and then, inevitably, of the person who gave it to him.

“No,” he tells his brain quietly, and frowns at the words on the small screen.

Over the course of the afternoon, he reads seven extremely interesting papers which he nonetheless has to repeatedly force his attention back onto, consumed with daydreams and a repeating cycle of sudden happy flutterings in his ribcage followed by sinking feelings of insecurity, uncertainty… “I assure you I do”, Garak said that night, and it keeps echoing around in his head – _do what, exactly?_ At the time it had seemed so clear, but now…now nothing seems clear. _Finish reading the damn page and think about it later,_ he tells himself sternly, more than once.

He drinks far more caffeine than is healthy, utterly disgusts Quark by also ordering a _glass of water_ , and endures a great many interruptions to the reading he is already struggling with. Some are casual acquaintances, people he would normally happily have a drink with, who grin at him with varying degrees of resemblance to Quark and clearly want to get him to talk about the station’s latest rumour – he continues to refuse to even acknowledge their hints as his patience wears thinner and thinner. Some are people he doesn’t know that well, who sit near him in twos and threes and shamelessly talk about him. He reminds himself that this is what he came for, so that as many people as possible will get their gossiping out of their systems as quickly as possible.

A few of the people who greet him and stop for a quick chat genuinely seem to have no idea that he’s currently the most gossiped-about person on DS9, and it’s nice to know that not _everyone_ gets to hear about _everything_ , or at least not everyone takes any notice of it!

He doesn’t know whether he dreads Garak stopping in for an unexpected afternoon drink or hopes against hope that, unlikely as it is, he will. He could go across to his shop, of course, if he wanted to see him – which he does, desperately, and also really doesn’t – but he just sits there, continuing to be mildly harassed and reading extremely slowly.

And then Jadzia turns up. She slides silently into the seat beside his, and he doesn’t even notice she’s there until he looks up to order yet another drink and finds she’s looking at him intently.

“Hello, Julian,” she says, raising her eyebrows slightly and smiling in that way she has – mischievous, yet honest and friendly and fond.

“Hi,” he says guardedly, wondering if she’s going to make fun of him. If she does, he knows it will be light-hearted, well-meaning…but he still hopes she doesn’t.

“It’s true, then?” she states more than asks, glancing at a table of young Starfleet crewmen nearby who have been speculating none-too-subtly about him and “that dodgy Cardassian” for the last ten minutes or so.

Julian studies her open expression: neither judging nor mocking. Of course. He gives her a brief smile.

“Yep.” He has no intention of lying about it, especially not to his closest friends, and there’s no point clamming up about it to them either; sooner or later he’ll have to talk about it with them, and really, he _wants_ to - just a shame it couldn’t be later rather than sooner.

“Good!” Jadzia exclaims, and Julian stares at her. She just stares back expectantly.

“That’s…not exactly what I imagined you would say,” he admits.

“Whyever not?” she asks in apparently genuine surprise. “He’s wanted to be more than friends with you for years, and it’s clear you adore him… If you ask me, it’s about time something happened between the two of you!”

“Has he?” Julian asks weakly. “Is it? I mean…how do you know?”

“Julian,” she says in fond exasperation. “Are you really asking me that? It’s so _obvious_!”

She rolls her eyes, and he says nothing, feeling a little dazed. He’s apparently not as good at keeping some secrets as he is at keeping others – well, he knew that already, but are his feelings really clear to everyone? And has Garak really wanted…wanted _that_ , with _him_ , for years? He had thought so, sometimes, as he even said to Garak after that first kiss, but he’s never been sure... Jadzia’s not normally wrong about these things, but…

“So have you seen him yet? Since, you know…” she asks excitedly. She probably finds all this terribly romantic, whereas he, being in the middle of it, is just finding it terribly stressful. “Are you officially a couple now?”

“No. To both,” he clarifies in response to her questioning look. “I haven’t had a chance to see him, and…we’re not a couple.” That heartsick feeling he has about the whole thing sets in all over again and he realises he really _doesn’t_ want to talk about it, not now, not even with her. At least fretting over it himself, he can back away from the thoughts he doesn’t want to deal with – if he has to have a real conversation about it all, he can’t just abruptly change the subject or walk away if it comes to the things he doesn’t want to admit, and he really doesn’t want to admit that he’s a mess, that he has no idea if Garak wants them to be “officially a couple”, that if it turns out he doesn’t, he’ll be heartbroken…

“Haven’t had a chance?” she interrupts his heavy thoughts. “…you’ve been off duty since, what, 0600, and you’re in the bar!” She tilts her head slightly to one side and regards him with the look – the “I’m hundreds of years old and wise and I know things” look that she normally gives people when the thing she knows is that they’re being idiots. “Are you…scared?”

“No,” he says in a voice that sounds petulant even to his own ears.

“You are!” she says in teasing wonder. “You’re too scared to talk to him about what happened! Aren’t you! Julian, you can’t possibly be feeling insecure about this… You never get insecure!”

“Well, I do, actually!” he says, suddenly feeling quite cross at her – because she’s one of the people who knows him the very best, and it’s illogically hurtful to realise even she doesn’t know that half the time, his mind is just one seemingly endless neurotic, anxious and fretful tangle of worries and doubts and… God, he feels so alone right now. He automatically wishes Garak was here for him to bounce ideas and thoughts off, to tell him off for being silly and…and of course that’s incredibly stupid, because this time, Garak’s the whole damn problem.

“I’m sorry, Julian,” Jadzia says sincerely, looking a little taken aback. “I only meant that you’ve always acted so confident when it comes to, you know, dating… I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t have the same worries as anyone else, or that you’re somehow not allowed them…”

“It’s fine,” he says, appeased by her, as usual, well-chosen words. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I just… I don’t want to get my hopes up. It’s not that I’m not happy, I’m over the moon! But as soon as I concentrate on being happy about it, I start panicking about the whole thing! I guess it’s my brain’s way of keeping me grounded in case the other night just turns out to be a…a mistake, an anomaly… I just want to be sure.”

“Oh Julian. I understand.” She smiles at him. “I don’t know Garak very well, but I am _sure_ he has feelings for you. Whatever doubts that clever little human brain of yours is dreaming up to torment you with, please, please try and ignore them. I don’t believe he’s playing with you, and I don’t believe he’s going to change his mind about you…” Julian smiles back, finally – she really does understand, at least a little. “You only have to look at you two together to see that! And did he or did he not march into your infirmary in the middle of the night to sweep you off your feet with gifts and kissing?”

“Well, I guess he did…” Julian says, and he’s just starting to feel hopeful again when Jadzia suddenly swears loudly, making him jump.

“What!?” he yelps.

“I forgot! Julian, I actually came to find you to, well, to give you a bit of a warning,” she says, looking apologetic. “You see, I spoke to Benjamin this afternoon, and I don’t think he’s-”

That very second, Julian’s comm badge hisses into life -“Sisko to Doctor Bashir” – and it dawns quickly and unpleasantly on him what Jadzia probably intended to warn him about.

“Oh my god!” he half-whispers to Jadzia as if Commander Sisko might overhear him even though he hasn’t activated his badge. “I’ve been so busy going up and down wondering how Garak feels about me I hadn’t even thought about the trouble I’m going to be in! I could lose my position over what we did!”

“You won’t lose your job,” she whispers back. “But…you might be in trouble.”

“Doctor Bashir, come in please,” Sisko’s distant voice insists.

“Answer him!”

Julian taps his badge and replies in the most neutral tone he can summon.

“Yes, Commander.”

“Doctor, I need to speak with you on a serious matter.” The commander’s voice sounds as professional and controlled as it usually is; he doesn’t sound angry at all. This does nothing to make Julian feel better. “I understand you’ve been on night shifts,” Julian winces, and Jadzia looks like she might want to laugh, “so I won’t ask you to see me this evening, but I expect you in my office first thing tomorrow morning, is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Julian affirms with a heavy heart. It seems the commander is satisfied with that, for now, as his comm badge remains silent.

“Oh god,” he says again, and all he can think about as Jadzia tries to reassure him and makes jokes that he really doesn’t appreciate right now is how desperately he wants to talk to Garak.

 

 


	3. A Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, has it really been a year since I updated this? Um, yes, yes it has. I'm so sorry! Honestly, I really am sorry. 
> 
> So it's longer than I thought/planned, but I should think the next chapter really will be the last! Probably...

 

Julian walks into ops the next morning just before 0600, the official start of the station’s artificial day, hoping that by making it very literally the first thing in the morning he will avoid seeing too many people directly before and after his unavoidable reprimand from Sisko.

It works, because technically there are less people there than there generally are during an average day, but it doesn’t feel like it, because frankly any number of people watching him uncomfortably approaching the commander’s office is too many. 

Major Kira gives him a look of such disapproval that his uncertainty about whether she actually likes him or not instantly becomes certainty that, even if she did before, she doesn’t now. He feels a little hurt, and a bit angry, because ostensibly they are friends, and anyway, nobody has the right to judge him for where his romantic interests happen to lie. _Perhaps she’s just disgusted at my neglect of my duties_ , he tells himself doubtfully.

Jadzia gives him a smile, half amusement and half support. You won’t lose your job, she had said the night before, and she was right – there’s less than a 10% chance that this incident will cost him his position, and that’s not even taking into account the fact that for it to happen, he would have to screw up this meeting beyond belief… The thought makes him feel better enough to force a smile in return.

A few other operations staff are present, but because half of them are coming off duty and half just about to start, they’re milling around somewhat, which means that overall he gets no more attention than anyone coming to ops to definitely be told off would get, and less than some, as he crosses the room.

Chief O’Brien isn’t there, which is something of a blessing. Julian has just recently started to feel they are close to becoming real friends, but he knows how the chief feels about Cardassians, Garak in particular, and he’s been thinking of how he will approach the subject with him when – if – he and Garak become…serious.

And that’s not likely to be ever if he goes on the way he is, since he still hasn’t seen Garak or even contacted him, even though he promised Jadzia before he left the bar last night, a little bit drunk and a little bit miserable, that he would at least send him a message. After sitting in his quarters for a while, leafing through the Vulcan poetry book, he decided to send him a brief message – no, an honest message explaining how he felt – no, why didn’t he just go and see him, explain in person why he hadn’t sought him out earlier… And of course, a whole night has passed and he still hasn’t done any of those things.

He sighs as he reaches the door to the commander’s office, both because of his situation this very moment and his current situation in a more general sense. He stands up straight, takes another deep breath and tries to put everything aside for a while and look and behave like the sensible, professional person that he is only here because he’s definitely _not_ , then presses the door chime to alert Sisko to his presence. The door slides smoothly open and he walks into the office, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible. Commander Sisko is sitting behind his desk with a mug and a pile of reports, and looks for all the world like he’s been installed there for hours – which he might have been, Julian supposes. A station commander’s job is a 26 hour a day one.

“Doctor Bashir,” Sisko greets him evenly. “Please, take a seat.”

He had rather been hoping the meeting might be a quick if not painless one, in and out, as it were, but it seems that’s not going to be the case. Julian does as he’s told, and struggles to meet the commander’s eyes across the desk.

Sisko puts his mug on the table and picks up the baseball that lives on his desk, then just looks at him for a long moment, saying nothing. Julian knew he would do all of those things – he’s seen the commander do “displeased and disappointed” before, and been on the receiving end of it more than once.

Sisko exhales once and sits up a bit straighter, as if he’s been considering things and has suddenly come to a decision.

“There are a lot of rumours going around on any given day on a station this size,” he starts, and Julian knew he wouldn’t just get to the point without any preamble, too, but nonetheless he instantly starts to feel impatient. It’s not a good attitude to take when he’s being reprimanded, especially as he deserves it, but he can’t help it. _Get on with it,_ he thinks miserably, although he knows it’s not going to happen, and tries to let none of these thoughts show on his face. “And you might think they don’t get back to me, but the fact is, Doctor, that most of them do.” He peers at Julian intently again, then swaps back his baseball for his raktajino. “I assume you know why you’re here...” he says with a very slight inflection – asking whether he needs to be asking.

“I think so, sir,” Julian says politely – a lie, really, since he knows precisely why he’s here. Possibly Sisko knows he knows, because for the first time during this whole episode, he starts to look, and sound, annoyed.

“Doctor, I could make the personal relationships of the Starfleet personnel on this station my business. I choose not to, because I happen to believe that even if you join Starfleet, you reserve the right to a private life outside of Starfleet. However, when you start behaving inappropriately – extremely inappropriately, in your case, Doctor – whilst on duty… That is something I cannot choose to believe is none of my business!”

 _Relationships_ , Julian is thinking even as his Commanding Officer talks sternly to him. _God I hope that’s what it is,_ and for god’s sake, he’s being entirely unprofessional even now, he should be listening, paying attention – it’s not like any lecture he gets is going to be undeserved.

“Um, yes, I understand, sir,” he says quickly, just a second too late for it to seem like he’s really engaging properly in his telling off.

“Do you?” Sisko asks – technically asks, though his flat, deep voice suggests nothing but disappointment and cynical disapproval. “Because it seems to me that if you realised how serious this is, you wouldn't have taken leave of your responsibilities to this station and its inhabitants like you apparently did the other night!” His voice, having risen in anger over the course of his previous sentence, becomes quiet and calm again with a careful intake of breath and exhale. “To be honest, Doctor, I was hoping you would storm in here and deny everything, or give me that _I don’t know what’s going on_ look. Since you’ve done neither, I’m forced to assume that what I’ve heard is true.”

“I suppose it depends on exactly what you’ve heard, sir,” Julian replies without thinking, and he knows as soon as he’s said it that while absolutely true, it’s also absolutely the wrong thing to say. There are only two likely results: either Sisko will be angry at his apparent facetiousness or he will have to detail exactly what he’s heard and expect Julian to compare it to his own account, which will be utterly excruciating, for Julian if not for both of them.

Thankfully, the commander’s natural reaction is the first.

“DOCTOR Bashir!” he says, at high volume. Technically it’s shouting, but his tightly controlled body language somehow makes it feel more like mere angry, loud talking. He puts his mug down hard enough that Julian’s surprised it doesn’t break. “I suggest you start taking this more seriously, right now! Neglect of duty by any member of this station’s crew is a punishable offence, but this is MUCH worse than that! You didn’t just neglect your duties; if what I’ve heard is true, you neglected them in order to engage in the worst kind of impropriety, in the work place! And you’re not just any member of the crew, you’re the head of a department, arguably the most vital department on this station!”

Julian’s heart sinks, and he puts his head in his hands, thoroughly ashamed.

“Doctor,” Sisko carries on, quieter and struggling less now to rein in his anger. “Every single person on this station relies on you at all times, and you blithely disregarded that so you could have sex, in the infirmary – with Mr. Garak?”

“Is THAT what you heard?” Julian exclaims, horror mixing with poorly-timed amusement at the extreme distaste in Sisko’s voice. He feels like he might laugh or cry, and either way, he wouldn’t be surprised. “That did _not_ happen, Commander! We just- Well, we didn’t do _that_ ,” he repeats, finding it quite surreal that he’s really having this conversation with his commanding officer. 

“Well, that’s one piece of good news,” Sisko replies drily, not missing a beat, as if he’s completely comfortable with the whole exchange after all. Julian’s sure he can’t be, that he’s acting as if he is because he’s in command – and possibly also to make Julian himself feel a little more uncomfortable, just in case he was finding it all too pleasant so far. “Doctor. _Julian_. This isn’t like you at all, and you must understand how disappointed I am. I can see that you know what a mistake you’ve made, and I don’t feel any need to tell you that you had better not behave in this manner ever again – but I still have to take it seriously. You’re suspended from duty for a week.”

“Suspended!” Julian starts to protest, but stops at the look on the Commander’s face.

“Believe me, Doctor, you are still getting off lightly,” he says coldly. “Given your rank, and the importance of your position as a medical officer, I could demote you for this. I am choosing not to, and I suggest you think about that for the next few days.”

He abruptly breaks eye contact with Julian and picks up a report from his desk. Aware that he’s being dismissed, and aware that he is indeed very lucky to get away with such a light punishment (despite the fact that he feels sick to the stomach at the thought of being suspended), Julian stands up to leave, drowning in a weird mix of relief and shame.

“Doctor,” Sisko adds conversationally as he gets to the door. “If I see you in the next week, it had better be due to the single worst emergency this station has ever seen.”

“Yes sir,” he replies breathlessly as he fights the urge to literally run out of the office.

He keeps his head down and his gaze on the floor ahead of him as he walks back through ops, feeling he’s better off not knowing what looks he’s being given right now, or reading in those looks how much of his interview with Sisko has been overheard by the room at large.

 _Suspended,_ he thinks to himself as he enters the blessed solitary confinement of the turbolift, muttering the word quietly but with the bitterness of a swear word. He reluctantly orders it to take him back to the habitat ring, feeling he ought to change out of his uniform, really, even though he doesn’t want to. Suspended! He’s _never_ been suspended, or had any official disciplinary action taken against him… And now it’s going to be on his service record – forever – and it’ll be accompanied by the _reason,_ and _everything is just terrible_ …

Worst of all - and it _is_ worst of all, because as upset as he is about his suspension, he can’t pretend Garak isn’t more important to him - he still doesn’t know where things stand with Garak, still hasn’t even seen him, and still doesn’t know what he’s going to say when he _does_ see him. He's probably really offended him by avoiding him for so long. He's probably missed his chance...

He sighs as the turbolift starts to slow. _Everything will be alright_ , he tells himself, and it might even be true. His suspension is only for a week. He’ll talk to Garak at some point today, and then at least he can apologise, and get a better idea of what’s going on; if it’s nothing, well, he’s survived this far without being in a relationship with him – he’ll be fine, even if it hurts. He just needs to gather his courage and-

The lift doors slide open and of course, _of course_ , Garak is standing there, waiting to get in. Despite not having had the time he was hoping for to put together some semblance of emotional fortitude, or make himself look less dishevelled and stressed out after his telling-off, Julian finds he’s just happy and relieved to finally see him. Garak, for his part, is looking handsome and impeccably dressed, as usual, and if he’s angry or hurt by their lack of contact since the extremely close contact of the other night, it doesn’t show – he just looks mildly surprised to see him.

“Doctor… Julian,” he says as if he can’t decide how to properly address him.

“There you are!” Julian exclaims in response – it may be ridiculous, but at least he doesn’t need to worry about what he’s going to say when he sees him anymore.

 

 


	4. A Less Official Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian and Garak talk, but not about what really matters. Garak is overprotective. Julian has 87 feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg it's... it's alive! Also the fic. The fic is alive too. 
> 
> If you're actually reading this, I'm so happy and grateful that you haven't given up entirely and shunned me on principle. I can't believe how long it's been since I updated this (not to even mention since I started it! Oh dear god.) Since I last finished and posted a chapter of this, my life has changed *very significantly* and... well I'm using that as an excuse even though I definitely had time around the significant life-changing events to continue it... Anyway I just have to say a sincere thanks to everyone who's read, commented etc. in the interim. 
> 
> Also, although this started off as three chapters, it's now going to be five. Oops. I'm seriously working on the last chapter straight away though. STRAIGHT AWAY. 
> 
> This is my neglected blog. See my neglected blog be neglected. Be neglected, neglected blog, be neglected.  
> internationalkitties.tumblr.com
> 
> And... on the off-chance that any of you live in the Seattle area and want Star Trek Friends (tm) please let me know - I live here now and I will be your British Star Trek Friend (tm).

“There you are,” Garak echoes smoothly. “I was just coming to find you.”

That seems unlikely, but Julian doesn’t press him on it. 

“Oh Garak, I’m so glad to see you! I meant to come and see you days ago, honestly…” he starts babbling nervously. “Honestly, I didn’t mean to-to leave it so long, I promise, I-”

“Why are you apologising?” Garak asks with infuriatingly calm neutrality. “We’ve certainly gone without each other’s company for longer before.” Garak’s enjoying his discomfort, Julian knows, but whether it’s his usual teasing or he’s taking some small revenge for his own lack of contact he doesn’t know – and he could hardly blame him if it’s the latter.

“Garak!” he says in exasperation – if he wasn’t so aware that the way Garak chooses to respond to him now could plunge him back into despair, he would be amused by him being so very annoyingly… well, himself. “I’m sorry. And you _know_ why.” Garak just looks at him, and keeps looking at him. His eyebrow ridges raise in a familiar expression, but there’s a strange look in his eyes, and Julian honestly can’t tell if he’s angry with him or not, if any of the things that have been tormenting him have been on Garak’s mind at all. It’s a mess, everything’s a mess, and unexpectedly he feels that there’s suddenly a real, if small, possibility he might actually cry. That just won’t do at all, especially not in front of Garak, and he turns away, hoping he can successfully keep his expression blank until he can no longer see his face. 

But then Garak reaches out and touches his arm gently. 

“Doctor,” he says softly, and his tone is much warmer, but despite it Julian’s heart sinks. He had kind of thought – kind of _hoped_ – in his more optimistic moments that perhaps they would be permanently on first-name terms now. Well, he hadn’t thought Garak would want him to call him “Elim”, necessarily, but it’s already surprisingly painful to hear “doctor” without the corrective addition of his first name. “Are you feeling well? You look rather pale.”

He’s going to say “I’m fine”, but decides at the last second that Garak’s going to find out soon enough anyway, so he tells him the truth: “I’ve been suspended.”

“Suspended?” Garak exclaims. Julian doesn’t want to discuss this, not even, right now at least, with Garak, and he turns to leave again, actually making progress down the corridor this time, but Garak follows him and gets in his way until he’s forced to stop.

“Because of what happened between us…?” he half-asks, looking into Julian’s eyes as if he’s trying to focus on something he’s not sure is there at all.

“Of course because of what happened between us,” Julian says irritably, too tired and resigned to his overemotional state to really snap.

Garak leans back slightly, looks away, seems to be considering…

“Please excuse me, Doctor. Julian,” he says abruptly. “I have a minor task to attend to. Can we perhaps talk later?”

“Of course, but…”

He watches Garak as he rushes off without a word more, then turns away with a sigh to be on his own way, feeling disappointed. For all that he was trying to get away from Garak a minute ago, the fact is that his first attempt to apologise to him and talk things over has been an abject failure. He’s seen him, finally seen him, but nothing is resolved. Nothing is even slightly better than it was before.

_At least he called me Julian again. And we will talk later, properly, even if I have to... lock him in his own shop!_

Less than a minute later, something occurs to him. He stops in his tracks, and immediately turns, hurrying back the way he came.

 

 

“So THAT’S what you were doing there!” he says, unable to stop his first proper smile in two days from shining out embarrassingly as he rounds a corner to find, as he expected, that Garak is back at the turbolift that goes to ops, his hand on the button that calls it.

Julian can tell – well he thinks – that he’s startled him by the speed at which his head whips around to look at him, but of course he manages not to _look_ surprised.

“Whatever do you mean, my dear?” he asks mildly. “I was here to meet you earlier, didn’t I say?”

“And now?” Julian presses, then decides to forget it. “No, you know what, I know – you’re on your way to see Commander Sisko, aren’t you? To take responsibility for what happened the other night and try and persuade him not to discipline me?”

“That’s certainly not what I’m doing,” Garak starts, probably quite convincingly, but Julian, still smiling, interrupts him cheerfully. 

“And that’s what you were really on your way to do before!”

“Why should I want to do such a thing?” Garak says, feigning confusion. “Whyever would I deliberately assume blame and give myself an even lower place in the commander’s esteem than the one I already hold? He could make my life here quite difficult, you know!”

“I know! It wouldn’t make any sense!” Julian agrees happily. 

Garak looks at him warily, surprised to have been agreed with instead of argued with, perhaps.

“Well then. If you’ll just let me be on my way, we can-oh-”

Julian throws himself at Garak and wraps his arms tightly around him, possibly surprising him for the second time.

“You’re a wonderful man,” he says quietly as he holds him close, finding his voice is slightly hoarse. “But…” he continues as he pulls back, leaving one hand on Garak’s upper arm. “You are _not_ going to talk to Sisko on my behalf!”

As he frowns at Garak, Garak starts to smile back at him. 

“Oh I’m not?” 

“No, you are not. I deserve this suspension, Garak. And more to the point, I refuse to let you bring down some…some arbitrary punishment on yourself to try and protect me!”

“What happened was at the very least both of our faults, my dear. And in fact, as I recall it, I was the one who came to you, not the other way around!”

“You’re a civilian; you were free to do as you pleased, but I wasn’t!”

“True enough, I suppose. But I still feel a certain amount of responsibility for… the events of that night.” His smile looks forced for just a second – apparently he really does feel that it’s partly his fault, and feels bad about it. _He really does want to help me_ , Julian thinks, and that thought sends yet another rush of very familiar warmth through his chest. 

_Or maybe he just feels uncomfortable remembering what happened_ , he thinks, one part of his brain countering another, and a momentary pang of anxiety spikes through the comfortable warmth.

“But, I suppose, since you won’t ‘let me’ _take_ any of that responsibility,” Garak is going on, “perhaps I could just try and persuade the commander that a lesser punishment for you would be more suitable, and of less detriment to the running of the station. A note on your record, perhaps – there’s no need for you to be taken off duty…”

“Oh Garak, stop it!” Julian says fondly, ignoring his warring interpretations of Garak's words and expressions and attempting unsuccessfully to lead him further from the turbolift, which has now arrived and is waiting patiently for someone to get in it. “This _is_ the lesser punishment. Besides which, it doesn’t feel like the end of the world anymore. I must be getting used to the idea or something.”

Glancing nervously at Garak’s face, he finds no confidence in his slight smile and sceptical blue gaze, but lets go of his arm and reaches timidly for his hand anyway. Garak accepts the gesture, but then immediately squeezes his hand and very deliberately lets go. 

“I think we should talk properly, Doctor. Julian,” he says seriously, and Julian’s heart immediately starts beating faster, stronger. “I’m free now, since you’ve banned me from seeing the commander…?” he offers with a look that Julian can make no interpretation of at all. Is _talking properly_ going to involve Garak letting him down gently? Just outright telling him he missed his chance by avoiding him for so long? Or… is it going to be a _good_ talk, where Julian can explain himself and Garak can forgive him and they can agree that there’ll be more romantic gestures, more kissing and, well, more?

Garak’s gone all deliberately neutral again, and Julian can’t read the situation, can’t read _him_ , and he panics. 

“Ten minutes! Um, Quarks!” he manages to stutter out, then he flees.


End file.
